


Don't Burn Your Heart Out, Love

by more_than_melody



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishval Civil War, Royai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/more_than_melody/pseuds/more_than_melody
Summary: Ishval. She turns her head to see him sitting on the stool the tent provided, his face in his hands, uniform jacket discarded on the ground beside him. An empty glass sits on the table beside him, nothing left of the contents. She doesn't want to know what -
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Don't Burn Your Heart Out, Love

Disclaimer: FMA isn't mine.

* * *

_She checks her pulse  
Gotta know if her heart's still beating  
And the hospital's not far if anything  
Should happen here_. . .

* * *

When she wakes, the first thing she is aware of is the pain. Her back burns, though the flames are gone.

For a moment it is overwhelming - her fingers tighten in the sheet beneath her -

She focuses on her breathing - in, out, in, out - and for a moment the pain recedes. She can feel the cool air on her bare arms, the chill of the desert night on her exposed feet. The right side of her body is more of an ache than anything else. It is the left, particularly her lower back, that is the source of much of the pain. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

She opens her eyes to find her entire torso has been wrapped in bandages, including up over her left shoulder. She isn't sure if she was awake for that. How long has it been? Hours? It must have been - it's dark outside, like the deepest parts of the night. A sliver of a crack where the tent flap hangs she can hear nothing - blessed silence for once. 

She turns her head to see him sitting on the stool the tent provided, his face in his hands, uniform jacket discarded on the ground beside him. An empty glass sits on the table beside him, nothing left of the contents. She doesn't want to know what -

"You're awake."

"Roy?" she manages, her dry throat catching on the word and causing her to cough. He looks up at the use of his first name. It's been years since she has said it like that. The fear in his expression is sharp. Underneath that, there is something else. Something most people wouldn't notice, but for someone who has known him for as long as she has, it's easy to spot. Guilt.

_and how precise he was now, the flame small in his hand but hotter for it - the stench of burning flesh - they would never leave this battlefield_

"Do you need something?" he asks, hands hanging helplessly. He has taken the gloves off, she realizes. She hardly can blame him for that.

"Water would be nice," she says, coughing again. 

"All right," he says. "I'll be back in a minute."

He vanishes out the front of the tent and the gust of fresh air that enters with his departure is like the first breath of air after it rains.

He returns with a full canteen to find her sitting up, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He fills a tin cup with water and holds it out to her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, taking it from his hand. The liquid looks black in the dim light that comes from the tent flap. She takes a long sip of the cool drink, letting it soothe her throat. 

"How do you feel?" he asks hesitatingly, as though afraid of what the answer will be. She gives him a slight smile in response.

"It hurts," she admits. _God did it hurt._ "But it's bearable."

He lets out a small sigh of guilty relief. How could she have said anything else, knowing how he would take her pain into himself and carry it the rest of their lives? Still, their ideas of _bearable_ are far different. Truthfully, she had expected worse.

"You should lie down," he says softly. "Try to get some rest."

"Not likely," she says. 

He flinches, looking away, his shoulder coming between them like a mountain. 

"You should sleep," she says. He sits on the stool again. 

"I don't think I could sleep, even if I wanted to."

"That makes two of us."

He seems so close to her now, the narrow confines of the tent even smaller with the two of them inside.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. As his fingertips brush her skin she flinches. He pulls back immediately, clenching his hand into a fist. His face shuts down, guarding his emotions once more. She wishes she could rewind and fix this, as she has wished so many times before.

He rises abruptly.

"I'll be outside if you need anything," he says, ducking out the tent flap. Again, a gust of fresh air, like opening a window in winter.

Standing is an effort, but once she's managed that it is easy to locate the spare clothing she brought with her. Getting into it is another story - the loose blue shirt isn't so bad, but bending to put her feet through the foot holes of her loose black leggings takes several minutes. When she's completely dressed she's not quite sure how she managed it, but she takes another drink of water and heads out after him.

She finds him standing no more than twenty yards away, on a rise overlooking the central portion of the camp. He is wearing a grey shirt that has seen better days tucked into his blue uniform pants. His hands are buried deep in his pockets as he watches the sky lighten, fading to the faintest purple as the sun begins to rise.

If he is surprised to see her, he hides it well.

"Is it always going to be like this?" he asks as she takes her place at his side, where she belongs.

"I'm not sure what you mean." He gestures vaguely and looks down.

"You flinching every time I touch you. Every time we meet I leave you with another scar. What happens when it's something you can't will away? When you can't look me in the eyes anymore, because of what I've done?"

Neither of them say anything for what feels like a lifetime.

"Thank you," she finally murmurs. It's not really an answer to his question, but she isn't sure that she has one.

"Thank you for what?" he asks bitterly. "For hurting you yet again?"

"For setting me free."

He is speechless for once. She turns to face him, watching the faint blush of early light over his cheek, his jaw, his hair. She wants to reach out and reassure him, but after tonight her emotions feel too raw, her touch too rough to soothe away the pain inside him. "I know how hard it was for you to do this for me. It wasn't fair of me to ask you to."

She turns back toward the tent, watching the first stirrings of shadows over the ground. It won't be long before the camp comes to life but for the moment there is silence, a rare moment of peace in what has been a season of endless agony.

"I have carried this burden for so long," she murmured. "Thank you for carrying it for me now."

* * *

_Hey lady, don't give up on me  
And don't burn your heart out love  
Until we're ash over seas  
Hey lady, said I don't want to fight  
Like pretty girls need cowboys  
I need you here tonight..._


End file.
